


Through the Woods to the Other Side

by KathyRoland



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Consent is Sexy, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Time Stamped, pack roles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyRoland/pseuds/KathyRoland
Summary: An accident leads to a missing member of the Beacon Hills Pack.  No one knows what happened and the pack struggle to find out the answers.  At the same time, Peter Hale knows something that he isn’t telling anyone.  Where is the danger coming from?  How long until they find the answers they need?





	Through the Woods to the Other Side

23.45 PST

 

Stiles and Scott were driving down the road in the middle of the night.  Stiles had both hands on the wheel and was focusing on the road in front of the headlights.  He’s not the strongest driver at night- even with the full moon overhead provided extra illumination, and the black pickup truck behind them seems determined to ride his bumper the whole way even though they’re the only two cars on the small back road that loops through the reserve.

The two young men had broken from their pack gathering and were going to an old spot familiar to the two of them.  There was a clearing off the road in the reserve the two had discovered some years ago to use as a sanctuary of sorts- they were the only two who went there.  There, they could lay back and chat while looking up at the stars in the sky.  Bro-time Stiles called it.  They hadn’t been able to do it for more than a year, with all the drama and chaos the pack was involved in.  So when Scott suggested they go back, just the two of them, Stiles had jumped at the chance.  He loved the pack, but sometimes he just wished he could have Scott to himself again.  It was hard sharing his best friend.

He was focused on the mirror, watching the truck behind him suspiciously when he took a turn a bit too fast and hard.  Scott oofed as he slammed forward and something slammed into the seat from behind him.  Curious, he leaned back to see what it was that Stiles was storing back there.  It was a pile of binders with the title ‘Consent is Sexy!’ in bold letters on top of each of them.  It was Stiles’ newest project for the pack after reading too much fanfiction one night.  Stiles explanation was that enough crazy things happened to the pack all the time, so they should write out their wishes if something were to happen that would leave them without the capacity to decide.  There were questions about what to do in the case of sex pollen, questions about how to watch you if you’re truth-serumed, and questions for the human pack members of when it was acceptable for Scott to bite them if it would save their life.  There had been some initial jokes when Stiles confronted everyone, but they settled down quickly, knowing that the way Beacon Hills worked, they would likely be thankful for having their wishes known- a sort of advanced directives for the supernatural. 

Scott liked the idea.  But what he didn’t like was Stiles’ answers.  Particularly on when he could be bitten if needed.  Stiles answer was never.  Scott and he had argued the other day about it.  Scott was hurt that Stiles would prefer death over him being his alpha.  Stiles had told him that it wasn’t that.  Instead, he didn’t want another creature taking over his mind.  After the Nogitsune, Stiles never wanted another presence in his consciousness controlling anything about him.  Scott had countered that he would be able to control the wolf- everyone in the pack could.  But Stiles was adamant.  He would not take the bite for any reason.  Scott huffed and looked out the window, his mood annoyed.  

It was just a hypothetical, but he didn’t like of his best friend, his brother dying when Scott could save him.  Stiles knew that and later he had told Scott quietly that he also didn’t want Scott to be the reason if the bite reacted wrong and killed Stiles.  Stiles had had so much happen to him- his spark, his recent possession, it was almost guaranteed that he wouldn’t survive the bite.  He didn’t want Scott to live with having ultimately killed Stiles.  Scott disagreed.  Stiles was the strongest member of the pack, for all that he was only human.  If anyone could survive being bitten, it was him. 

Scott blinked and realized that Stiles had been talking.  

“-and that’s why it’s stupid to send both Peter and Derek away at the same time.  We’re vulnerable without the senior advisors to the pack.  You know this Scott, I gave you a thirty page PowerPoint lecture just a few months ago on the roles in the pack and why they’re important in keeping us alive!” 

Scott looked over at Stiles.  He had lectured him, and quite extensively to that.  What he had an issue with was what role Stiles was putting Peter Hale in. 

“Peter’s not my advisor.”  He protested, “I never listen to a word that man says!” 

“And yet it’s his information that had saved our pack in the last three encounters and the last challenger we faced!  Without his advice, we’d be toast and you know it!” 

“But that doesn’t mean I listen to him like I would an advisor.  If I had, each of those challengers would be dead!  All he ever does is tell me to kill everyone!” 

“That’s what I tell you to do as well!  And yet you manage to ignore both of us.” 

Scott had a feeling they were getting off track, but he couldn’t not address this.  “It’s wrong to kill someone just because of something they might do in the future.  I won’t do that.  I won’t be that type of alpha.” 

Stiles turned around briefly to glare at him.  “Everyone of them- every fucking one,” he jabbed a finger at Scott, “killed innocents before reaching us.  That’s how we found out about them.  You’re not doing anything but passing off the problem to the next territory they go in.”

It was an old and familiar argument between the two of them.  Scott couldn’t help but attack full heartedly.  Neither one ever convinced the other, but it always built up between the two and had to be released for their relationship to even out. 

“Stiles, you-“ 

It happens in a heart beat, in less than a blink of an eye.  There is a sound, a thunderous crash that jerks them forward.  The force forward is so strong, that Scott finds himself lifted up as his frayed seatbelt breaks under the pressure and he goes flying through the windshield to land on broken glass and pavement as he skids down the road.  He hears another crash and crunch and sees out of the corner of his eye the jeep veer sharply to the right, down and embankment and tumble several times over itself.  There is a black pickup still on the road, stopped with its hood dented from the impact with the jeep.  Its engine is idling.  

Scott is worried about Stiles, but first he has to see to whoever ran them off.  Was it a hunter? 

Scott staggers up and prepares himself to meet his next challenge. 

 

23.48 PST, 08.45 CEST 

Peter and Derek were walking through the catacombs below Venice.  Or rather Peter was walking, quite jauntily and Derek was stomping.  Peter was manic, happy in telling tales to Derek, who is close to knocking his uncle out so he can exist in silence for some time finally.  Derek understood that Scott felt that Peter had to be supervised so far from the pack with enough to tempt him back into old ways, but what he didn’t understand was why it had to be him. 

“And that, dearest nephew mine, is why the Stewguart Pack will never step foot in America.  It’s been hundreds of years, and they still will not risk it.”  Peter loved his lectures and stories.  At one time, Derek loved listening to them.  He had felt his world expand along with his outlook when he was younger and would listen to his older, cooler uncle.  He had loved it.  But now days, he can’t go often looking at Peter without thinking of Laura.  Some wounds never faded, and some deeds could never be forgotten. 

Derek was staring ahead, trying to focus on anything but Peter.  He grunted in response to the waiting silence, knowing that if he doesn’t respond in some way, Peter will only get worse. 

They walked in silence a little longer as Peter let the words sink in.  “And the moral of the story is…”  He sang out grinning at Derek.  He was walking ahead of them, but was walking backwards so he could focus his attention on Derek.  Derek hoped that he tripped and fell into the channel of water in the middle of the catacombs. 

When he realized Derek wouldn’t be contributing more than his grunt, Peter continued.  “It’s okay if you don’t get it right away, that’s what these talks are for- for you to learn!  The moral, young one, is don’t stick your dick in crazy, as the kids would say now days.  Good lesson for you to learn, yes?” 

Derek glared harder and walked faster.  He needed to get the book hidden here and get out.  He was nearing the end of his patience dealing with his uncle.  

 

23.57 PST 

Stiles is in pain.  He doesn’t know what’s happening.  There’s a coldness seeping into him, and he’s terrified that he’s blind. 

He feels another burst of white hot pain as something grabs his arm and hauls him over broken glass.  Dimly, he realizes his arm is dislocated.  His thoughts are disjointed, and he can’t focus. 

Suddenly, a slap rocks his head back.  He still can’t see but he can suddenly hear.   His head throbs in pain in such a way that he had never felt.  It felt as though a great pressure was behind his skull, trying to get out as it was beating a drum over and over. 

“Stiles!  I need you to wake up!  I need your help!” 

Stiles opens his mouth and lets out a groan.  Scott.  That was Scott. 

“Scott?” 

“Stiles!  You’re hurt.  You’re hurt bad.  Where’s your phone?  I can’t find it!  I need to call 911!” 

“Scott?”  He knew it was Scott.  But he didn’t know what was happening.  He was in pain, a lot of it.  He couldn’t think. 

“Shit, Stiles, you’re bleeding out!”  He feels warmth on his side, in the shape of a hand.  Though arduous and slow, his mind is still working to connect things enough to give him answers.  Scott is his hand over a wound in his abdomen.  That’s the warmth- his hand on cold, clammy skin.  Shouldn’t it be warm if it’s bleeding, he thinks-  Blood’s warm… 

“Stiles!  You’re going to die if we don’t get you help!”  Scott sounds hysterical.  Stiles tries to care why he’s so hysterical but the world is spinning too much. 

Stiles just breathes for a few breaths. 

He wets his lips and tries to speak.  A croak comes out.  

He tries again.  “Scott.”  He knew what was happening.  This was his end. 

“Yeah man.  Where’s your phone?” 

“Tell my dad I love him.” 

“No!  You’re not leaving me.  Come on man!” 

There’s panicked murmuring over him.  Stiles drifts until Scott speaks to him again. 

“I need you to be strong Stiles!  I’m going to give you the bite, so you live.  You can be pissed at me and never talk to me again but you’ll live!” 

Stiles jerks his head to the side, beginning another wave of pain and nausea through him.  His whole body shudder and rippled.  Pain was bright red hot fading into white flecks over him. 

“Told you…”  He gasps,  “No.”  

“I know man,” a big hand brushed over his forehead.  “But you’re going to die.  This is the only way.” 

Stiles felt darkness encroaching on him.  He struggled to get the words out even as he felt his arm being lifted.  “No…” 

He gave into the darkness. 

 

00.18 PST, 09.18 CEST 

Darek grumbled as he walked through yet another spiderweb.  Somehow, even though he was in front, Peter was dodging each one and each one finds its way to Derek’s face to walk through.  He knew his uncle was somehow doing it, but he doesn’t know how. 

And Peter was still talking. 

“So dear Beatrice then looked to her alpha for support, but the enforcer of the pack, a brute named-“ 

Peter’s lecture cut off suddenly. 

Derek looked up at the break and saw him stumble, then catch himself from falling.  He staggered over to ta wall and slumped against it.  Peter was silent and tight lipped, just breathing slowly and deeply with his eyes tightly shut.  

“Peter?”  Derek took a cautious step forward. 

With a deep indrawn breath, Peter opened his eyes and stared at his nephew.  He was silent. 

“What happened?” Derek looked around, uneasy. 

Slowly, Peter straightened and stood apart from the wall.  He looked sightlessly into the distance and didn’t answer.  Ignoring Derek, he pulled out his cellphone and cursed when he saw that he had no network connection. 

Finally, he looked up and locked eyes with Derek. 

“Forget the tome.  We need to go back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Why?”  Derek was concerned, but he didn’t know who for- his uncle or whatever was causing him act this way. 

“At the very least, I need to make some calls.  Something’s happening.” 

He turned and walked away, back the way they came. 

Alarmed, Derek followed him, their pace quick, almost running.  Despite how much he tried and asked, he couldn’t get Peter to give him any information on what was happening. 

 

00.54 PST 

Stiles is running through the woods.  His breath is labored and his steps are staggering.  He cannot last long. 

He collapses and throws up bile and blood. 

He heaves and sobs. 

He crawls over to a fallen tree and hunkers down. 

The pain is overwhelming, his body is stretched to its breaking point. 

He is thankful when the darkness reaches up again to take him down. 

 

01.45 PST, 10.45 CEST 

Derek paced the short isle in the waiting area for their plane that he and Peter were waiting to board. 

The quickest flight they could find was to Seattle.  From there, they would need to take another plane. 

Other passengers seemed to watch him nervously as he kept pacing, but he didn’t care.  Peter still wouldn’t tell him what was happening and why he knew they needed to get to Beacon Hills. 

He couldn’t get in contact with Scott or Deaton, and he left messages to call him back.  It worried him that neither replied.  Even in the middle of the night, someone should have woken up long enough to get back to him. 

Peter was on his own phone dialing, waiting, hanging up, and redialing.  His jaw was clenched. 

“I’ve left messages for Deaton and Scott.  Have you been able to contact anyone?”  Derek already knew the answer, but he didn’t know how to ask who it was Peter kept on trying to call. 

“That foolish boy isn’t answering.”  Peter looked up.  “Stiles isn’t answering.” 

“Wh-“  Derek is cut off by his phone finally ringing.  He looked at the caller id.  “It’s Deaton.” 

 

03.03 PST 

The Sherriff was driving down a back road in the reserve.  He had been working a night shift when Deaton contacted him.  His son and Scott were missing.  Peter Hale thought something was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell anyone what it was.  Everyone else in the pack had been contacted and found to be fine, Argent family included.  But Stiles and Scott were missing and not picking up their phones. 

John had ended his shift early, claiming family emergency and left to find his son. 

John wasn’t proud of it, but he had a GPS tracker on his son’s jeep, a product from the months of secrets and mistrust between the two of them before he knew of the supernatural.  He had never activated it until now.  His son wasn’t answering his phone.  John knew it was serious, even without Deaton telling him.  

Now he was slowly driving down the road with his headlights on and his eyes peeled.  He was coming up to where the jeep was. 

He saw the skid marks first.  Then the black truck.  There was pickup truck in the middle of the two lane road, parked silently.  John parked his cruiser and got out.  It wasn’t dawn yet, so he had his flash light out with the beam pointed forward. 

He walked up to the truck.  There was a dead man inside.  He appeared in his late 70’s or early 80’s.  He was still buckled in, and John noticed the truck wasn’t parked, but still in the drive position.  The front tires had fallen off, and the hood was caved in, which must have stopped the momentum of the truck suddenly and violently. 

John looked around before opening the door and disengaging the engine.  If it was any other circumstance, this would be when he would call it in, but his son was still missing.  

He turned his back on the truck and followed the second set of skid marks.  His heart leapt into his throat.  There was his son’s jeep- over turned and upside down.  The driver’s side window was broken and there was a blood trail leading from it. 

John didn’t remember running down the embankment but he found himself looking into the cab.  It was empty.  He wildly shined his flash light around trying to find any clue.  He whirled around and his eyes and flashlight beam sought the blood trail.  It led off to the left of the truck and into some bushes. 

He stopped suddenly, frozen solid to the ground and unable to move or tear his eyes away.  There was a body, face down in a creek some feet away.  His light shown on the still feet. 

Everything shut down for him.  Stiles! 

He forced his himself to take a step forward.  Then another.  He slowly walked over.  He breathed again suddenly when he realized it wasn’t Stiles.  It was Scott.  He immediately felt bad for the relief, but it wasn’t Stiles. 

With shaking hands, he reached out and turned the body over.  Scott’s eyes were wide with surprise.  His throat was gaping open.  He had bled to death. 

John slowly stood up.  He took a step back. 

He looked around.  There was nothing else to see- no blood trail, no obvious path.  Just a dead body of his son’s best friend, and no clue of where Stiles was.  

His hand went to his radio.  Did he call it in?  If it was a supernatural problem, would he be hurting his chances of finding Stiles if he went the official route?  

Or would the resources of the police department help him find his son faster? 

He looked out to the expanse of the reserve.  Where was Stiles? 

 

14.59 PST 

The plane had finally touched down in the Seattle airport.  Peter strode off it, a man focused on a single mission.  Derek followed as they reached the next gate over to the connecting flight to California. 

Peter seemed obsessed, a man on a mission.  

Derek couldn’t help the well of unease the grew within him.  They had heard nothing from the Beacon Hills pack and Peter was acting very much out of character. 

Finally, his phone rang.  It was Deaton’s number. 

The man started out by apologizing for leaving them in the dark, but they had been busy with the chaos.  He filled Derek in with what they knew. 

Derek felt light-headed at the news he heard.  He thanked Deaton for the update and told him when they expected to get back to Beacon Hills.  He rang off after securing a promise that Deaton would call with any update that he could give them. 

He turned to Peter.  “You heard?” 

“Yes.” 

“Unbelievable.”  Scott McCall had been killed.  His throat had been ripped out and Stiles was missing from the scene.  The sheriff had called in his department.  Apparently, besides the body of Scott at the scene, there was a copious amount of blood.  They had tested it and it belonged to Stiles.  He might be already dead. 

Derek sat in silence for some time, trying to wrap his head around what was going on.  He looked to Peter. 

He would not take the silence any longer.  Not with death hanging over the pack.  “You need to tell me what you know.  What is going on?” 

Peter remained silent, his lips thin and his jaw clenched. 

“Peter!  Derek slammed his uncle to the wall.  Security started making their way over, so he released him just as quick.  “Now’s not the time to be secretive!  What do you know?” 

Peter sneered at him before looking forward again.  “I know very little.  I suspect a great deal, however.” 

“Well, then what do you suspect?  Was it hunters?  Another werewolf?  What?” 

“Deaton said his throat was torn out.  That’s not the work of hunters.” 

Derek nodded.  “Another werewolf?  Are we looking for another rouge alpha now?  Who would go after a True Alpha?” 

Peter shook his head sharply.  “No- who ever killed him didn’t inherit the alpha status.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“I don’t think.  This is the one thing I know.”  Peter looked at him again, and this time flashed his eyes.

Derek’s heartrate skyrocketed.  They were alpha red. 

 

15.12 PST 

John was watching forensics process the scene.  They had been called down from another city north of them, one that had a bigger budget for the crime scene lab.  John was not allowed to take part in the investigation as it involved his son, but everyone on the force would keep him updated.  They would not keep him in the dark.  In the meantime, he was getting updates from both Deaton and the Argents, as the remainder of the pack combed through the reserve with Chris lending his help.  They needed to find Stiles, and they needed to find out what happened. 

His phone buzzed with a text.  It was Deaton, saying he had some more information.  

He walked away from the group and called the druid. 

“What have you found out?”  John didn’t waste time with pleasantries. 

“It wasn’t a werewolf that killed Scott.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because Peter Hale is an alpha again.” 

“What?!”  Some people looked up at him in concern.  We waved them off and walked further out. 

“When an alpha is killed, the power transfers.  If it can’t go to the killer of the alpha, then it goes through the line of succession.  In this case, as Peter was the one who bit Scott, it went to him, as he was deemed closest in line to inherit.” 

John’s thoughts went into overdrive.  “Did he set this up?  Does he know where Stiles is?” 

“I don’t believe he’s responsible.  He was with Derek and out of country during the time this occurred.  There was no way he would have known the boys were going to be driving in that place, and even if he had sent someone to kill Scott, it likely never crossed his mind that he might inherit the alpha status from his death- traditionally, it would have gone to a pack mate of Scott’s who he trusted the most- and Peter was never trusted, and rarely considered pack.” 

“But it did go to him.”  John’s thoughts were whirling. 

“Yes, but I don’t think anyone could have anticipated that.” 

“You’re putting a lot on guesswork here.  Do you honestly know that he isn’t a suspect?”  John had a lifetime of experience in solving crimes.  He would not allow this to go unquestioned.  He was the expert in this, this was something he could do to help find his son. 

There was a beat of silence.  “No.  It’s possible, though extremely unlikely that he set something in motion.  But I do not believe he would have endangered Stiles.  Out of all the pack, it is Stiles who Peter seems to have a bond with.” 

John shook his head even though the druid wouldn’t be able to see it.  “Well, he’s still on my radar.  Do you have any other news, any leads?  If it’s not a werewolf, then what was it?  Hunters?” 

“I’m sorry John, I don’t have anything more.  What do you know about the driver of the truck?” 

“Looks like a heart attack.  Either whoever set this up knows how to cover their tracks, or they were extremely lucky with their timing.  It could have been a crime of opportunity- something came up on the boys after they were run off the road?” 

“Hm.  It’s something to consider.  But why go after an alpha?  And why take Stiles?” 

“I don’t know!”  John burst out.  

“I’m sorry John.  We’ll keep looking.  I’ll keep you in the loop if we find anything more.” 

“Thanks.”  Without waiting for another word or more platitudes, John hung up. 

 

17.50 PST 

Peter and Derek have arrived in Beacon Hills.  Derek hadn’t let his eyes off his uncle.  Immediately, he herded the man into the vet clinic where Deaton was waiting.  Chris Argent followed behind them, gun at the ready. 

Peter simply smiled and let himself be led. 

Upon entering the shop, Deaton immediately surrounded him with mountain ash, trapping him.  Chris took over the integration. 

“What do you know?”  The man’s hands hadn’t lowered the weapon aimed at Peter. 

Derek stayed to the side and watched, his arms crossed and his thoughts heavy with fear.  Who knew what Peter would do now that he was alpha again. 

Peter for his part seemed loose, relaxed.  His grin never wavered. 

“I know that I’m the alpha.  I know that Scott McCall was killed.  I know that Stiles is missing because that’s what you told me.  I know I can be a help to you.” 

Chris scoffed, clearly not willing to believe him. 

“How did you set this up?  Who did you send to kill them?” 

It didn’t escape Peter’s notice that Chris was already thinking of his boy as dead. 

He held his hands out.  “I didn’t do anything other then travel to another country on Scott McCall’s orders.  Am I sad that the boy is dead?  Not particularly.  It seems to benefit me.  But I did nothing to cause it.  Nor to harm Stiles.” 

Chris tried a few more times, but Peter never changed his answers. 

Finally, Derek spoke up. 

“We’re not going to get anything from him.  And we’re wasting time looking for who did this.  Deaton, will the mountain ash hold?” 

Alan Deaton nodded his head.  “Until someone disrupts it.” 

“Then let’s go.  There’s still a lot of ground to cover.” 

Peter smiled darkly as he watched them get ready to head out again. 

He spoke up.  “You need my help- it’s almost been 24 hours.  I’m the best tracker there is, if anyone has a chance at finding the boy, its me.” 

Chris and Derek didn’t bother looking at him.  Deaton did and answered, “I’m afraid we don’t trust you enough to let you help.  Rest assured, we will find out what happened to Mr. Stilinski.” 

“And how long to do you intend on keeping me here druid?” 

“As long as it takes to get some answers to this mystery and be assured that you won’t be going on another killing spree. 

Peter laughed darkly.  “Let me out, and I will forgive you for this.” 

“Goodbye Peter.”  Deaton turned and walked out of the room.  Chris and Derek brought up the rear, not looking back as the door was locked and bolted behind them. 

Peter paced the confines of the circle, assessing the situation.  He needed to get out there and find out what had happened to Stiles. 

He grinned as he flicked out a claw.  After the experience of being trapped by mountain ash and almost burning to death, Peter had devoted some considerable time and resources to making certain it never happened again.  He paid a steep price for the knowledge, but he now had the skills to perform a little bit of blood magic that would negate the mountain ash for a short time.  He would not be trapped by these people. 

 

18.23 PST 

Stiles woke up shivering.  He curled into a tighter ball.  His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like ashes.  He didn’t want to move.  He didn’t want to think. 

He brought his hand down to his stomach.  He still has a wound there, but it was small.  It wasn’t bleeding anymore.  

He blinked as he silently cried. 

Suddenly he heard humming coming closer.  It was a jaunty tune, and he suspected he knew who was humming it- it sounded like Peter.  

He doesn’t say anything as it gets closer.  He just closed his eyes and sniffed again. 

The sound was coming closer, that he could now hear footsteps. 

The humming stopped.  Stiles opened his eyes to see Peter standing over him, assessing him with his gaze. 

He locked eyes with the wolf before looking away. 

“How badly are you hurt?”  Peter asked as he crouched down.  He made no move to touch Stiles though, just ran his gaze over him critically.  

Stiles shrugged and winced at the same time- his shoulder was still painful to move. 

“Not as bad as I was.” 

“I’m glad to see you had enough time to heal up.  I assume you were close to death?” 

Stiles looked away and blinked rapidly. 

“I said no.”  Was all he could say. 

“Okay.”  The word was quietly understanding, gentle. 

Stiles gasped back a sob.  “I don’t know what happened.  Why did I do that?” 

“It was a full moon.  Your wolf came to life in full power, but it was battling both your new alpha and the remnants of the Nogitsune.   It’s no surprise that you were pushed to the back.  You couldn’t have stopped it.” 

“I killed him.” 

“Yes.” 

They stayed in silence for a while. 

Finally, Peter spoke up.  “Can I touch you now?” 

Stiles jerked his head in a nod.  Peters hand slowly reached out and smoothed back his hair.  He trailed it down Stiles’ forehead and down his cheek before resting it gently on his neck.  It was claiming, leaving his scent on him.  A mark of an alpha to his pack member. 

“What now?” 

Peter cocked his head.  “That’s up to you.  I’m leaving for greener pastures.  The remains of the pack out here would never be willing let me keep my status.  They would find a way to remove it, might even try to kill me again.  It’s time for me to start over again.” 

Stiles felt a loss within himself.  Somehow, he had always seen Peter in his own future.  Now that the older wolf was leaving, Stiles felt one more support taken away from him. 

“Okay.”  His voice was small.  He wouldn’t try to dissuade him. 

Peter ran his thumb over Stiles closed lips.  He looked down intently at the young man. 

“You have a choice.  I can either take you the hospital to heal up the last of the damage, or I can take you with me.” 

“It’s my choice?” 

Solemnly, Peter nodded.  

Stiles thoughts raced.  He didn’t want to make the decision. 

Peter then grinned slightly.  “Even if I leave you at the hospital, I will let you know where I settle.  There’s nothing to say you can’t join me at a later time.” 

“Choose for me.” 

Peter rocked back to his heels, his assessing gaze never leaving Stiles. 

“Thank you.”  He said it softly, but it meant it whole heartily. 

“For what?” Stiles looked quizzically up. 

“For your gift and your trust.” 

Stiles looked away.  “I didn’t know the myth was true- I didn’t know that I would become human again, let alone that you would gain the alphaship.” 

“There’s always a kernel of truth in the old tales.  In your case, I suspect it was several factors that contributed- your spark, your previous battle with possession, and your will.  You knew that you could not be a werewolf under McCall, and so it was.  You also knew who you could trust with the power.  Magic works by will, knowingly or not.” 

Stiles had nothing to say.  He didn’t want to think of his dead friend. 

Peter looked at him and nodded.  He stood up.  He reached down and hefted Stiles up, his werewolf strength easily holding him aloft with no strain. 

“Let’s go.  It will be a long drive.  I’m thinking somewhere on the east coast.  There are still unclaimed territories by the big cities, and I like civilization.” 

Stiles reached up and put his arms around Peter.  He closed his eyes and settled into Peter’s hold, finally he had no need to fight. 

As they walked, Stiles asked a question that he had been thinking about for several months.  “Am I your packmate?”  He already knew the answer. 

Peter knew that, but answered anyway.  “Yes.” 

“What will be my role?” 

“What ever you want.  Enforcer, advisor…”  Peter paused walking and looked tenderly at Stiles.  “Mate, if you want it.  It will always be your choice.” 

Stiles smiled up at him.  For now, he could focus on the present.  For now he could try to forget about his brother.  He was safe now.

Peter continued walking, stepping carefully over obstacles so not to jostle the human in his arms. 

They walked into the night and out of the woods, an alpha carrying his mate to a new future.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to get another chapter of Condemned out, but this plot wouldn't leave me alone. Good news is, it's not another WIP- it's completed. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave some feedback if you did, I love to hear from people.


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